Pamela Joyce Shapiro Unseasonable This is for the young widower who loved his lawn more than life, who once stood waist high in a sea of snow and shoveled all of Pickwick Drive, as though it were the world, as though the blizzard bore his private whiteout grief, and we were all enemies because we […]
Read MoreJon Densford A Wedding He was so devoted to loneliness that he pledged himself to her in marriage, but that cold ceremony was without witness, except for three white candles and one grey, desiccated moth. Jon Densford lives in Memphis, where he will attain age 69 in two shakes of a sheep’s tail.
Read MoreScott Hughes Signal When my father called and asked how I was doing, the words I wanted to say escaped me in an exhale, traveled through the phone to the nearest cell tower to the outer atmosphere and off to who knows where, and all I could tell him was “I’m good, Dad. I’m good.” […]
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche The Passenger Jet The passenger jet leaves its long broken contrail straight across the sky behind as though it were the dotted line of the contract the skywriter will sign. I asked the guy on Purgatory Road I asked the guy on Purgatory Road why on earth he built a house so close […]
Read MoreNeil Creighton I wake to the flickering screen’s images of desperation and remorse, the bleak recounting of misdeeds, lies, greed, corruption, scenes of anger, partisan politics, accusation, analysis, implication, expectation, speculation, but in the blue-sky day outside the gum trees are in nectar-filled explosion of blossom and the air is filled with flocks of beautiful […]
Read MoreMelissa Silva This Word Yes, even this word, this one word, this very word, this, this word on the page, this page, this page that you touch, this word that you see, this word that you hear, and all it invokes, good, bad, indifferent, vivid or not so vivid, a memory, a feeling, an experience, […]
Read MoreTommasina Domel A Cowardly Poem I excised it with a scalpel and laid it into gloved hands placed it in a jar with formaldehyde and set it on a shelf so you could read it here in all its sterile inelegance without getting blood on your hands without getting blood on mine. Tommasina Domel lives […]
Read MoreMichael Minassian Naked Cinema Here in your bed, I hear the fresh pant of your breath, the faint thump of your heartbeat which draws me, my love, into the weather of your cinema. Michael Minassian is a contributing editor for Verse-Virtual, an online magazine.
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